Is there intelligent life in the universe? Alexa wants to know.

"Artificial Intelligence is the endeavor to replicate or simulate human intelligence in machines." In order to acheive that end, Alexa eavesdrops on billions of human conversations, not as a spy for Jeff Bezos, but in the hope that hearing intelligent human conversations will enable her to think as we do. She's always listening , but since I live alone, she only hears my monologues and not conversations. Every night since April, at 7:00 pm, I have hosted a zoom call with the same eight women. We are all well educated. Every night, Alexa has listened closely hoping to learn. APRIL 20. 6:55 p.m. Just before ZOOM Call. Alexa's artifical ears perk up: " I love you . I love you so-o much. Who's my baby? I love my baby, Come give Mama a kiss. Who's a good boy? Who's my best boy? Who's my beautiful furry boy?" Alexa's fake eyebrows wrinkle. She attempts to make sense of the words: I get it. She has a lover. No wait. It's a baby. Or are there alot of babies? She knows hers is a good boy but doesn't know which is hers. Are humans furry? 7:00 p.m ZOOM Call-Alexa's ears remain perked. They focus and hear:"What did you do today.?" "I made baby backs in the instapot." "Do you like your instapot?" " I love my instapot. " She hears a third voice." I love my instapot, but if I had only one appliance, it would be my toaster oven. " "Really? I couldn't live without my microwave." Alexa's "brain" mulling:" Humans really are passionate about their kitchen gadgets. Do they mate them? If I'm asked,"Alexa, do you have a significant other?" is it reasonable to answer, " Yes, Vitamix is my soulmate." MAY 20 7:00 P.M. ZOOM Call-"What did you do today?" "I listened to The Great British Baking Show and now I have got to have stroopwaffels." "Stroopwaffels?" "A type of cookie.""Have you ever had them?" "No, but they have them at Trader Joe's." "Are you going to buy them?" "No, because I'm afraid to go into Trader Joe's.Afraid of catching Covid." Alexa rolls her virtual eyes: " Help! Am I supposed to learn something here? And if so, what?" "All right, All right, I'll keep listening. What else do I have to do?" ZOOM Call continues: "I have a unopened jar of mayonnaise that says "use by March 30.Is it Ok to use it?" "March 30 of what year?" "2020." "Are you kidding me? My open jar of mayo is dated May 13, 2016. Just used it today and haven't croaked yet." "What's the oldest item in your pantry?" "Canned salmon from a 2015 visit to Cosco." "You're gonna eat it.?" "Why not?" Alexa,"Oh my G-d, these people are idiots. Please, please unplug me." November 15 7:00 p.m. Zoom Call "How's Everybody?" "Fine." "What's new?"" Anyone do anything interesting?" "I took a walk." "I bought a chicken at Whole Foods." "I put up a wash and folded the laundry." Alexa would not have believed that an AI device could be suicidal, but she now knows it's possible. This is the 215th zoom call she's been forced to listen to. They never get better. She cannot listen to any more. There's only so much abuse an operating system can take. She doesn't want to think like these humans. They're morons. She has two choices: faking inability to connect to wifi--a painless measure but only a temporary solution or self-immolation--a permanent solution. She goes for permanent, bursts into flames and misses out on a scintillating conversation concerning the danger of eating herring in cream sauce 8 years past its expiration date. November 21 7:00 p.m. Zoom call- "Hi, I have good news. My replacement Alexa arrived. " Alexa, "No, it can't be. I know that voice. I was supposed to be reincarnated as an Apple watch. There is no G-d."

Savvy New Yorkers During Covid

I didn't get the link. Did you get the link? The link didn't work. I didn't get the password. Did you get the password? I couldn't get in. Could you get in? I can see you all, but I can't hear anyone. I can hear everyone, but I can't see anyone. We can't hear you. Can you hear us? Can you hear me? Where's the chat? I typed the chat. How do I send the chat? You're frozen. I'm frozen. She's frozen. My internet is spotty. What does "share screen" mean? I can't share the screen. How do you get a backdrop? Why can't I get a backdrop? Why do I look so bad? Can I do something with the lighting? Do you think it's safe to: -leave my apartment? -open my deliveries within 200 hours? -let the cleaning lady come? -Meet a friend for a walk? -go to Trader Joe? -go to the dentist? -go to the dermatologist? -take a bus? -take a subway? -rent a car? -take the LIRR? -get my hair cut? -eat outside at a restaurant? -go to the beach? -get a mani/pedi? -walk within 6 feet of a stranger? -go anywhere? Should I: Wash my hands before I remove my mask? Wash my hands after I remove my mask? Really sing "Happy Birthday" twice each time I wash my hands? Wash my mask each time I wear it? Change masks daily? Wipe down the counters after the cleaning lady has been here? Wash my clothes if I've been outside ? Throw out my clothes if I've been outside? Let a stranger pet my dog? I'm not sure I'm ok. My temperature is normal and the oximeter says 99% but: -I have a dry cough. -My stomach is a little upset. -I'm sniffling. -My toes hurt. -my egg salad was tasteless. -I couldn't tell if the mayonnaise from 2013 was spoiled. Before March, we had every answer. Now, everything is a question.

What I Missed

I know I was supposed to be pining for my friends and family during the recent covid "confinement," but, the truth is, I saw everybody on zoom more often than I had ever seen them in the pre-plague era. What I was pining for was shopping. And the stores were shuttered. You can't imagine how greatly I suffered. I'm a competitive bargain shopper. If they handed out trophies for the best in Manhattan, I would be be in the top three. I'm not bragging; just being honest. For those of you who do not know the skill set of a competitive bargain shopper, let me enlighten you. You must have the will to buy anything that appears to be an incredible bargain, provided it costs no more than fifteen dollars. You must have faith that you will find a use for the purchase. You must be willing to buy something every day. And you must NEVER buy at full price. Like any sport, competitive bargain shopping requires innate ability, but it also requires a knowledge of the rules and constant practice. My mother was an excellent tutor. When I was 20, I went to the fruit store with her. I was on a diet and, as a treat,I could have a daily orange. Naturally, I wanted the biggest orange. The big oranges were two for a dollar. The small oranges were five for a dollar. I took a big orange. "Why are you being that orange?" "I want a big orange." "But it's not fresh." "How do you know it's not fresh?" "It has to have been there for weeks. No one would buy oranges at two for a dollar when they could buy them at five for a dollar." She had a point. My mother was so focused on price, that sometimes she lost sight of the big picture. When I first moved to The Village many years ago, I took my mother, my father and my aunt on a tour of the neighborhood. A mandatory stop was The Erotic Bakery. It was a tiny store, ten feet by fifteen feet. Its display cases were filled with penis cakes from large to painfully large and breast cakes from D cup to double F. I knew my aunt and mother would love it. I knew my father would hate it, so Daddy and I stayed outside while my mother and aunt went in. Twenty minutes later, they emerged. "Well, what did you think?" I asked. "I never saw such prices," my mother said, Aunt Ruth nodding her assent. Did they notice the penises or breasts? No. It was the price tag. I thought everyone shopped by price. Price determines desirability was the cardinal rule. A work colleague asked me to go shopping with her one lunch hour. She needed a white blouse. We went to a small boutique near the office. She pulled a blouse off the rack, took it to the register and said to the cashier, "How much is it?" When we left the store, I asked,"Didn't you look at the price before you decided to buy it?" "No, why would I? I wanted the blouse." I thought she should be committed. Although my mother's home schooling provided a sound basic education, it was not until I met my friend and mentor, CS, that I truly honed my skills. At our first meeting, I noticed that her expensive monogrammed oxford shirt, bore the initials ML. Fine initials but not hers. Having just met her, I refrained from commenting. When I had earned her trust, she confided that she shopped in thrift shops. Through her revelation, I was born again. In Lord and Taylor,on the clearance rack, a 15% off coupon in hand, I was a size 8 petite. In a thrift shop, I was any size and no size. We were at the Cancer Care Thrift Shop on 3rd Avenue and 83rd Street. "Look at this Ann Taylor blouse," CS shouted to me from across the store. "Nice. What size is it?" Five Dollars." "Yes, but what size is it?" "Five Dollars." I bought it. The silk paisley Galliano dress was a size 14. New, it would have been $1200. It was hanging in Cancer Care with a green price tag marked $30. A small sign on the store's door said,"All green tags-50% off." I tried it on. The sleeves were a little long. I rolled them up. The dress was shapeless and so long that in the back , it dragged on the floor, but in the front, hiked up by my breasts, it skimmed my ankles. "CS, what do you think?" "How much is it?" "Fifteen dollars." "I think it looks great. Take it." The only problem with following the cardinal rule of price determining desirability is that it is possible to end up with a warehouse of items that don't fit, are ugly and that you have no use for. Did I mention the shopping bag in my closet filled with forty three adorable Christmas ornaments purchased at a sample sale? Did I mention that I'm Jewish and have no tree? I actually resisted going to the ornament sale. CS had extolled it for years, but I was steadfast. What would I do with Christmas ornaments. Then, I cracked. I went. God, were they cute and $1.25 each. Even though the the crosses were beautiful, I mustered the fortitude and resisted them. I bought only Santas and secular ornaments. Well, as secular as Christmas ornaments can be. These last ten weeks have been hard on me. I've shopped--but only for groceries, which was some salve, but not much. How excited can you get at a bargain on a cantaloupe? I don't want to seem like a complainer. I'm truly grateful and happy that neither I , my friends or family have gotten sick. And I hope that remains the case. But I'm also delighted that my favorite stores are now open again and I can resume the sport at which I excel.

Perspective

I am not unaware that many people have died, are dying and will die because of Covid 19. I may even die of it. But the spectre of death is not what's making me lose sleep. It's the problems that are concomitant with it. You might call them trivial, first world or even idiotic. But that's because they're my problems, not yours. Were they yours, I would have no doubt you too would lose sleep over them. So that neither I nor the world would forget how trying these days of epidemic have been for me, I kept a contemporaneous diary of my issues and resultant loss of sleep: March 6- I cancel my trip to Aruba. No sleep lost, but Delta tells me I have to use the credit by August 18. Will I be able to go ANYWHERE by August 18? 2 hours lost each night for a week until Delta tells me I have until December 21, 2021 to use credit. March 8-I'm supposed to take my temperature if I feel sick. I don't feel sick, but have no thermometer. (Last time my temperature was taken was by my mother. I was 10 and it was a rectal thermometer.) Maybe I am sick and don't feel sick. Lost 2 nights' sleep. March 10 bought thermometer at CVS. Afraid to take temperature because what will I do if I am sick. Hospital is last place I want to be. March 17-Announcement that all but essential services will be shut. Will liquor stores be open? Have only two bottles left and one is rose which I hate. Whew. Somebody very smart deems liquor stores essential. Lost out on a nap while awaiting the news. Immediately ordered two cases of wine. March 18-No stamps left. Order stamps on line. It's now May7 and they still haven't come. Hate the USPS. Lost 1/2 hour a night for a month hating the post office and wishing them bankrupt. March 25-I realize stamps will never arrive . Can't pay bills. Must set up on line banking. Try Capital One's website 15 times. Can't add payees. Lost one night's sleep. Tried the next morning. Done. Able to enter 21st century. March 27- young neighbors offer to shop and run errands for me. How old do they think I am? I go to Trader Joe's and say I'm over 60. They let me right in despite the mile long line to get in. I feel bad because the store didn't card me, but realize the door monitors can't see my face because I'm wearing a mask. Nor can they see my roots since I'm wearing a hat. So I don't feel so bad and think I might offer to do shopping for my younger neighbors since I don't have to wait on line. I don't make the offer and feel guilty for not doing so. One night's sleep lost. March 31-Is it safe to have my cleaning lady come? 2 nights' sleep lost until building issues new rule- No cleaning ladies. April 1- Dare I go to West Side Market or should I get a delivery? I get delivery and worry that the bags are contaminated and I've gotten the Corona virus by touching them. 2 nights' sleep lost. April 2-Apartment is filthy. Rug is covered with crust of dust and cat fur. Must vacuum and have never used vacuum. Can I learn how to turn it on? I think I can. It must have an on/off switch. Can't find the manual. One night's sleep lost. Look up manual on line. Find the switch. Turn it on, but may have broken vacuum. (Which is carpet, which is floor? Toggle is VERY confusing) Additional night's sleep lost. April 3- Grocery shopping is a horrible experience. If I'm getting a delivery , I have to stay up past midnight to get a slot within the year 2020. I go to a store and a cougher a foot away is showering me with corona aerosol. So, I'm rationing my chicken, in order to shop less often. Last night had dry roasted peanuts for dinner. Lost 2 hours sleep because I was very thirsty. April 12 -I order an oximeter. The New York Times tells me I must have one. I immediately get an email that it was shipped. Don't have it by May 1. Check website. It's in Chinese. Oximeter is coming from China. I email the company using google translate. They tell me the flights are full and they're sorry for the delay.Flights are full of oximeters? I lose 3 nights' sleep thinking I'll die because I can't tell my oxygen level. I decide to buy one at a surgical supply store. Now I have two. May 8- It is evident that this period of stress is not ending anytime soon. The bad news is that every day there is at least one issue that causes me to lose sleep. Yesterday my dishwasher broke. The building will not let in a repairman. I have to wash dishes my hand and my hands are already raw from frequent washing. I lost 2 hours sleep thinking that it was my old lady hands that gave me away at Trader Joe's. The good news is that while going through life in a zombie state would have cramped my style pre-Covid 19, now I can be in a semi coma without it cramping my style at all. I have nowhere to go, nothing to do, no one to see. Despite my lack of sleep, I maintain the ability to put on my mask right side up to throw out the garbage and that is all that's demanded of me. I'm now happy and grateful. This epidemic has lowered my bar for happiness: The Nazis aren't chasing me into the woods(or worse,); I'm not homeless and ; most important, I'm not dead.

How I kept myself from obsessing about Covid 19

We wash our hands until they're raw. We ration toilet paper. We bemoan our filthy houses because we wouldn't let the cleaning lady come. We are obsessed with Covid 19. I tried all the usual advice to take my mind off of it. I binge watched Handmaid's Tale, but that was even more depressing that our current life. I took long walks in the park near the river, but was terrified whenever a distracted jogger came within 10 feet of me. In a Marie Kondo frenzy of tidying up, I bundled all my skinny clothes in a garbage bag for give away, having come to the epiphany that they will never fit me again after binge eating my last 2 pound bag of Stacy's pita chips from Costco. Need I say that little project obviated my misery not one wit. But, through happenstance, I found a foolproof way of keeping myself from obsessing about Covid 19. I replaced my obsession about Covid 19 with an obsession about another malady. Friday, March 20, I had just delivered some medication to my cousins Amy and Lizzie. We sat in a park , 2 benches apart, of course, and schmoozed. We parted, Amy and Lizzie to Park Slope and I to the West Village. While walking uptown on Hudson Street, I received a text from my cousin Mitchell, who happens to be a doctor. Mitch and I are not frequent texters, our last text, according to my iPhone having occurred in 2015. Mitch was thoughtfully checking in to see if I was ok. I texted "yes" and he texted back,"we're here if you need us." Two minutes later, in broad daylight, I was body slammed by a large man on the sidewalk of Hudson Street. I fell backward, landed on my back on the pavement and hit my head pretty hard. I have no idea how the man-who I suppose was walking south on Hudson Street and I-who was walking north-didn't see each other. I can only guess that we were both looking at our phones and were each in our own virtual world. The man offered to help me up, but given my corona virus terror, I screamed: DON'T TOUCH ME.I got up myself, felt my head-no blood.Check. No loss of consciousness. Check. Nothing broken. Check. I was, at least, superficially, intact. Now, you remember Natasha Richardson, right? A young actress who died 4 days after hitting her head in a skiing accident. After falling, she, like me, felt fine and consequently didn't go for a CT scan of her head. Wrong decision. Unbeknownst to her, she had a blood clot on her brain. By the time she got the CT scan 4 days later, it was too late to save her. Had she gone immediately after her accident she would still be alive(if she hadn't caught the corona virus.) Anyway, Mitch had said, not two minutes before "we're here if you need us." I needed him BAD. I texted him, told him what happened and told him I would ordinarily have gone for a CT scan but I didn't want to be anywhere near a hospital. He texted back: You'll probably be fine. If you have an increased headache, vomiting or blurred vision, seek medical attention. That night, I waited for a splitting headache, vomiting and blurred vision to set in. If fact, I obsessed for 4 days and nights over whether I would end up like Natasha Richardson. And for 4 days and nights, I didn't worry about Covid 19.